


the same ghosts we don't share

by kybcr



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Gen, Not Beta Read, this is a mess im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kybcr/pseuds/kybcr
Summary: soc secret santa gift for @kcznej





	the same ghosts we don't share

It's for the kruge. That's what Kaz tells himself. The party is only for profit.

Winter in Ketterdam is not usually celebrated. Kerch is a trading nation, and winter means rough seas for ships bringing in imports. But tourists from Fjerda and Ravka often come to Kerch for the warmer weather in the winter, so there is still profit to be made.

And what better way to make money than a winter ball?

There is more than money to be earned. Alcohol loosens lips and secrets spill like grain from a ripped bag. Secrets are a currency Kaz deals in.

So he puts in extra effort to make the party enjoyable for Inej. She'll be here the whole night, collecting secrets. Nina will be, too, using her own charms, but he doesn't bother tuning the party specifically to her.

For money. He insists that the crows will only be here to help— though they might as well have fun and enjoy it.

Wylan and Jesper put up decorations in Van Eck mansion, where the party will be held. Kaz gives them specific instructions; to put the liquor table immediately in sight of the doorway, and to leave the window unblocked as a potential escape route.

The invitations are simple, inked on crisp card.

“You are cordially invited to attend a masquerade ball in celebration of the winter season at Van Eck mansion, on behalf of the esteemed Wylan Van Eck.”

The Fabrikator that made Kaz’s cane was found dead in the canal some time back, so he commissions a different one to make him a steel crow mask for the ball. After some thought he also asks the Grisha to make a hyena mask for Inej.

When he presents it to her, she takes it wordlessly. It fits perfectly, with the straps winding under her braided hair and framing her eyes.

“Heleen Van Houden always made her Suli girls dress as lynxes,” she said quietly.

“But the animal of the Suli nomads is the hyena,” replied Kaz. 

“I'm a crow,” shrugged Inej. “Like you.”

And like Nina, and Wylan, and Jesper. But she had only singled out him.

***

The crisp air of the night stings Kaz’s face. Van Eck mansion isis a flurry of lights and warmth. Kaz pulls on the crow mask and taps the floor with his cane idly as he enters.

Kaz takes in the surroundings. Jesper had been smart— no decorations blocked off exit routes. He supposes Wylan has quite an eye for aesthetic, too.

But upon spotting the doorway leading to the main ballroom Kaz freezes.

Mistletoe.

A branch of white berries hangs, unassuming and swaying gently in the breeze. He is just about to stalk past it— after all, it is just a plant, festive tradition or no— and then he sees Inej, leaning against a corner on the other side of the room.

Her dark eyes are fixed upon his through the hyena mask. Suddenly Kaz has a strange urge to rip off his crow mask, so that less is dividing them— but Inej is watching him with a hawk-like stare that seems to pierce right through the mask anyways.

A kiss under the mistletoe.

A mess of images flash through Kaz’s mind in the fraction of a second; cold, loose, dead flesh under his fingers in the icy canal. Inej’s warm skin, searing his hypersensitive nerves. Her faint smell. The timbre of her voice, saying his name.

A kiss.

Kaz tugs the glove off his left hand, presses it to his lips and blows the kiss to Inej. A sarcastic chuckle escapes his mouth. A kiss under the mistletoe.

His eyes are fixed on her face as Inej raises a hand to ‘catch’ the kiss and closes her fingers around it.

She uncurls her calloused fingers and presses his kiss to her mouth.

Kaz swears he can see a smile under her hyena mask.

He turns around for a moment, to gather his scattered, wild thoughts. When he looks around again, Inej has vanished. No doubt she is still watching him.

He draws in a shuddering breath. He tucks his glove into a pocket, letting his ungloved hand ball into a fist.

It has been so long since Kaz had last used his bare hands for anything. The last time was to change Inej’s bandages. Before that, picking the lock when they broke into the ice court. Both times were times Kaz tried not to think about, to bury with the rest of Kaz Rietveld and his brother Jordie. He wasn't a boy anymore. He shouldn't be keeling over and retching when other people touch him.

But for Inej, he had vowed to try. _I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker, or I will not have you at all._ He tells himself every day that he would try to cast off the shell of Dirtyhands for her.

Unfortunately, Kaz is a very good liar. And an especially good liar to himself. He doesn't even know where to start. He doesn't think he can remember what came before the Bastard of the Barrel, much less if he can find that person for Inej.

 _But I will try_ , lies Kaz to himself. Again.

***

The sharp tang of fine Ravkan _kvas_ is sour in Kaz’s mouth. He shouldn't be drinking, not on a crucial night like this. Yet he finds comfort in the hazy blur the alcohol brings. And the promise of a blinding headache tomorrow.

His hands are quick and practiced, working of their own accord. It's simple, amongst drunk, dull guests, to swipe a watch here, a wallet there. These people are used to easy riches, to not having to watch their back at every turn. It's pitiful. Kaz is delighted to find that despite years of doing this with his gloves on, he can still steal without them.

This wasn't part of the plan, but he's restless and itching to do something illegal and highly dangerous. He's not drunk on the liquor. He's hungover from the rush of danger.

The biggest part of the plan is already done; tricking the richest merchers into investing in a nonexistent business. The Dregs don't need the money. But Kaz needs the satisfaction of conning people out of things they held dear. He misses the edge of fear gnawing on his nerves. It sharpens his thoughts like a knife.

And he would throw it all away from Inej. For a long time, one of his background operations was accumulating a small personal fortune to fall back on if the Dregs collapsed. Kaz had liquidated all of it to pay off Inej’s indenture.

She is no longer bound to the Dregs. And indeed she had left on her ship, on the _Wraith,_ but every time she would return and Kaz would breathe easy until she left again.

And yet—

_I'm a crow. Like you._

Surreptitiously he plucks the mistletoe from the doorway where it hangs and leaves the mansion. His pockets are bulging with stolen treasures.

***

The moments when Inej is in Ketterdam feel stolen and disjointed. She spends all of it with the Dregs. The sailors on her ship are friendly enough, but she doesn't connect with them in the same way.

She supposes breaking into a place that was supposed to be impossible to break into and almost dying forged certain bonds between people.

Inej is always watching for Kaz. She watches him steal enough to keep a poor family fed for a year, then leave.

Vaulting nimbly out the window, she leaps across onto the roof of the next building on silent feet.

Kaz did this once with her. He was slow and told her to go ahead, but she had waited for his uneven steps to carry him across the roofs of Ketterdam. He told her about escaping on rooftops once, which was how he broke his leg. But still he raced under the star-speckled sky of Kerch, reckless and determined.

He's in his office in the Slat. He looks strangely shrunken, arms wrapped around himself.

He's not wearing his gloves. Inej stops short, eyes flicking to the low doorframe.

There's a sprig of mistletoe hanging from it. The same one that was in the entrance of the ballroom.

“Come in,” rasps Kaz in his sandpaper voice. She came in silently, but Kaz still knew.

Inej takes a single step, under the mistletoe.

Somehow he's already so close to her, enough to touch him or kill him.

“I'm trying, Inej,” he says. “I may as well start here.”

His crow mask and gloves are lying on the ground. That's not like him. It doesn't fit the almost ritualistic neatness of the rest of his office. Inej yanks her hyena mask and tosses it to the floor next to the gloves. It lands with a sharp clatter.

This part of Ketterdam is never quiet, no matter the time of night. The noise carves a line through her muddled thoughts.

Kaz would never force her to do anything. The window was locked, but if she wanted she could have picked the lock and come in from there. She had chosen to come this way, and had chosen to stand under the mistletoe with him.

Quivering, he leans in, barely a hair’s length. Inej moves too, inching closer. She can feel his warm breath on his face, and Inej’s eyes flutter shut.

Their lips touch, for a fraction of a second— then Kaz jerks away. Inej is reeling. His mouth felt searing on hers.

It reminds her too much of Heleen Van Houden’s customers at the Menagerie, who crushed her small mouth with theirs. Who made her scream and thought it was an accomplishment.

_I'm trying, Inej._

She was, too.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

***

They return to the party together as the Wraith and Dirtyhands.

Wylan steps onto the stage and begins to play his flute.

It’s a lovely tune, regal and slow for the benefit of the clumsier dancers. Kaz is not one of those. Even without his cane, his steps are steady and rhythmic as he pulls Inej into a slow dance.

As they twirl, Inej is acutely aware of his gloved hand on her waist. His other hand is interlaced with hers- they have been since they left the Slat.

Inej stands tall and straight. Under the masks and gloves, they don't have to be Inej and Kaz, two broken people— broken children. Sometimes she forgets that she and Kaz aren't decades old like they feel.

The night goes on in a daze. Soon the dancing is less dancing and more like thrashing to music, but Inej and Kaz spin slowly through it all, holding each other tight.

A sharp noise sluices through the reverie. It sounds as if several windows have been smashed open, all at once. The guests are slow to react, but Inej draws her knives and whips around.

A swarm of rough-looking men rush into the ballroom. Some are missing fingers- Black Tips. There are also some that Inej recognize as Razorgulls.

Swiftly she turns to find that Kaz has drawn a pistol from somewhere. “I knew you’d have your knives, and I thought, well…”

_Knives drawn, pistols blazing._

Inej suppresses a small grin and lunges at the attackers.

“We’re here for Dirtyhands, not for a little girl!” yells the Black Tip.

“Too bad for you,” she says sweetly, deftly deflecting the dagger he raises.

“This is cheap metal,” she tuts disapprovingly, spinning his knife a few times before driving it into his gut.

The screams of the guests echo but fade eventually, leaving only the sounds of bullets and panting.

Jesper is laughing like a maniac, spinning his precious guns. Wylan’s out of sight— hopefully somewhere safe. Nina is also nowhere to be seen… and Inej almost wonders where Matthias is. She tries to think of anything else.

Kaz raises a knife behind her to the last Black Tip. “I won't kill you,” he hisses. There's a dangerous tone in his voice— but she can also hear excitement. He misses the danger, Inej realizes.

There's a sharp yelp and a wet thunk. The Black Tip’s hand is on the floor, blood pooling around it. A manic, savage grin spreads across Kaz’s face- not a real smile. He raises the knife again and lops off the other hand of the Black Tip. Inej-no, the Wraith- looks on coldly. Perhaps a year ago she would have flinched and looked away.

“Go running back to your boss,” he snarls viciously. “See what use he can find for you that doesn't require hands.”

The hall is silent after the Black Tip whimpers and staggers out. Wylan crawls out from under the piano, and Nina flips her hair back while fiddling with her necklace. Jesper and Kuwei assemble too.

“Just like old times,” Nina mutters. Wylan raises his flute to his lips and plays a short, sad tune to accentuate Nina’s words.

An odd strangled noise comes from Kuwei’s mouth. Soon Inej realizes it's laughter, and she can't help but join in. And then they're all laughing, bent double amidst blood and dust.

“I mean, at least the beverage table hasn't been disturbed,” says Jesper archly.

They laugh, and when the laughter ends, they dance. Kuwei taps out a simple tune on the piano and Wylan adds to it.

Kaz takes her hand again and spins her around the ballroom. The Bastard of the Barrel is gone now. The creature who lopped off the hands of a rival gang enforcer is replaced by a mere boy. The Wraith is gone too, who dashed through the shadows slitting throats and carving away lives from the fabric of the world.

And when the night grows old and dawn peeks its glowing head over the line of the distant harbor, Kaz leads her back to the Slat. He presses a pair of elegant, little folding knives into her hands. “Happy Midwinter,” he whispers hoarsely.

Inej takes this in her stride.

“My turn,” she says. Handing him an elaborate set of cards, she repeats “Happy Midwinter,” back to him. “I got these in Ravka,” she murmurs.

He arches an eyebrow. “You stole them.”

“I did,” she admits. “I thought it would mean more to you if I didn't get them legally. That's what you do, right?”

A grin slowly spreads across his face. Inej wants to capture that moment, and lock it into her heart. Kaz smiling was such a rare thing.

“I bought the knives with real kruge. I thought they'd mean more to you if I didn't steal them,” he mumbles, before pulling her into a tight, bone-crushing hug. It says more than any words could.

She can feel his bare cheek pressed against hers. Skin against skin. That simple gesture, from Kaz, means so much to her— so much to him.

They were trying.

 


End file.
